Mage
by Natalie Rushman
Summary: Loki has runa away from home. Odin is furious. Frigga would like to know why. Takes place, both pre-Thor, and within my 'Making of Heroes' universe.
1. Chapter 1

Loki had been missing for the better part of three days, and Frigga had worried herself sick. She couldn't imagine what had happened. He was still so young.

But now Lin had told her that the prince had been found, he'd been brought home. He was unhurt; speaking with his father.

Frigga finished her task with the utmost speed and fairly flew to the hall, where Odin sat, speaking angrily to the small figure that stood before him. Frigga hardly noticed.

"Loki!" The boy started and turned around, barely registering her presence before he was engulfed in her robes, "Loki, we were so worried, are you unhurt? What happened?" She knew she was speaking too fast, but she couldn't help herself.

"Frigga," Odin's voice was low and menacing. She raised herself, keeping one hand to the boy's thin shoulder, "Leave him for the moment."

"Our son has been returned to us, unharmed –"

"After willfully running away."

Frigga looked to her son, but he refused to meet her eyes.

"Leave him, Frigga."

Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, Frigga went to stand beside her husband. As she went, Loki did meet her eyes. He was sorry for what he had done. Frigga, though, did not understand. She had no idea what could have caused her son to leave her. And Odin – continuing his tirade – was not helping matters.

"But Father, I –"

"Silence!"

She saw the way Loki's shoulders came up and how he shrunk away. He didn't meet her eyes again, but couldn't quite manage to keep them on his father either, darting sidelong glances at the floor by his foot as Odin spoke.

"I am your father and your king and I will have your attention when I speak to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes Father."

"Look at me!"

Obediently, Loki dragged his eyes from the ground, his hands twisted into knots behind him.

What Loki had done was wrong, but how Odin disciplined was equally improper.

It was only several minutes later that Odin finally questioned him, "What have you to say in defense of your actions?"

Loki went to speak, but then clamped his mouth fiercely shut.

"You have nothing to say?"

Loki made no move to answer, but watched the ground beside him like he thought it might hurt him if he looked away.

"Loki, is this proper behavior for a prince?"

The boy caught his breath, shaking his head.

Odin was not pleased with this, "I want words Loki!"

"_No_."

It was a desperate answer, almost a whimper, and Frigga laid a hand on her husband's arm. He turned an irate eye on her and she gestured silently toward her boy, where he stood shaking and tense like an over-drawn bow-string.

Only then, it seemed, did Odin see how she'd seen. He relented, loosing some of his fury.

"You may go," he said, much quieter, "I expect you to keep to your chambers until I can contrive a fitting punishment."

Loki's eyes flicked to him for a second, desperate and relieved, before he jerked a bow and all but fled the room.

It was only after the child was good and gone that Odin spoke, "You will say that I am too hard on him." He shifted in his seat.

"He is only a child,"

"A child who will one day grow to be a man."

"But would you rather have that man's allegiance out of love or fear?"

"He _will_ obey me. Whichever road we must take. I will not tolerate his willful behavior –"

"If we are discussing willful behavior, may I remind you of our elder son?"

"Thor is not a part of this discussion."

"Mayhap he should be, my king. Were you ever so critical of him?"

"I will raise my sons as I see fit."

"They are _mine as well_."

"Frigga, I am your husband and I _will _be obeyed."

She gave a frustrated breath, raising her hands, "Do you even know _why_ he ran?"

"That is beside the point."

"I fail to see how. If we do not know _why_ the first time, how can we prevent the second?"

"There will be no second time. He will do as he is bid or he will suffer the consequences."

"That is how you train soldiers, not raise sons."

Odin sat back in his seat, smiling as though she had won him the argument, "What are they meant to be Frigga, if not – more than soldiers, but warriors and kings?"

Frigga raised her chin, "If that be the case, let warriors and kings make my argument for me," she gave him a bow, her fist over her heart, "my king."

~.~

She found Loki much as she had expected to. He was sprawled at his desk, papers and books carelessly shoved to the floor beside him, face hidden in his arms. He was very still. She knew he had heard her come in, though he gave no sign of it until she had closed the door behind her. Then he raised his head, "What?"

She didn't answer, but came across the room and seated herself on the low bench facing him.

He wouldn't look at her, but focused on his hands first, and then something on the far wall to his left. His face was streaked with tear tracks, but he stolidly ignored them, suddenly preoccupied with some imperfection of his sleeve. Finally, just as the silence was really beginning to wear on him, Frigga broke it.

"Loki,"

His eyes flicked quickly to her, then away.

"What happened?"

"Didn't Father tell you?" he gave an almost-laugh, "I ran away."

She let the silence hang again for a long moment before she answered him, "I think that that's not the whole story, is it?"

He didn't answer, but looked away again.

"Loki, what happened?"

He took a long breath, "I went after the skalds."

The careful way he said it, she knew it couldn't be the innocent tomfoolery it at first seemed. She waited patiently, but when no further answer seemed forthcoming she pressed, "Why?"

"No reason," he mumbled.

"Loki," she raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. He gave her a nervous half-smile and looked down. He knew it was a poor lie, and he was trying to find the words to tell her the truth.

"I wanted," he stopped and held his breath for a long moment before finally letting it out and saying lowly, "I was going to ask them to take my magic."

Frigga felt as though she'd been slapped. She wasn't at all sure that she'd heard him right, "What?"

Loki took one look at her face and was on his feet, the chair tumbled behind him, "Don't _look_ at me like that!" he nearly howled. In the suddenness of his movement and emotion, a burst came off of his up-thrown hand and knocked a lamp so that it fell to the floor and shattered with a clatter that sounded like thunder to both of them. Loki just looked at it blankly for a second before jerking his hand back against himself, "I'm sorry, Mother, I'm sorry, I didn't –"

He looked at her imploringly and Frigga found herself holding him tightly against her. She could feel his trembling and pulled him closer, "It's only a lamp, my love,"

After several minutes, she crouched down to look in his eyes. He was too tall for that now, and she laughed, "You've gotten too tall for me," She lead him across the room and sat down so that he was facing her.

Looking at him, she didn't know what to say. Ever since she had discovered her own magic she had regarded it as a precious ability, and had treasured it. But, she considered, she had never faced the complications he did, of royalty and the pressure to keep up with a sibling such as Thor. And she had never had the kind of power he possessed while so young. Her ability to control it had grown at pace with the power to be controlled. With Loki it was not so easy.

She sighed, letting her hands slip down to hold both of his. She looked up and saw the new dampness on his face. "Shh," she squeezed his hands and he met her eyes, "Oh Loki, don't you understand what a gift you have?"

He still didn't speak, but dropped his eyes to the ground.

"What made you think to go to them, Loki?"

He took a long breath, "I found a story about an elf king whose magic was making him sick. A skald came and took it out of him and I thought…"

"But why, Loki? Your magic is strong and beautiful," He wasn't looking at her, but at the shattered pieces of the lamp and she fell silent.

"What if I hurt someone?" he finally whispered, "So far I've only broken _things_…"

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, "It has grown very strong, _very_ quickly, hasn't it?"

He nodded.

"Did something happen that frightened you?"

He shook his head. Frigga was skeptical, but decided not to press.

"In time you will learn to control it. You know this."  
"But I don't _want_ to do magic," he burst out, "I want to be brave and strong like-" and fell silent, his face flushing a deep scarlet.

"Like Thor."

He didn't affirm her guess, but he didn't need to. He had always adored his older brother, but he was old enough now that the hero-worship was beginning to embarrass him.

"Look at that lamp, Loki."

Obediently, he turned again toward the shards on the floor.

"Is magic weak?"

He sighed, "No,"

"And you will find, as you grow older, that often it takes more bravery to meet a foe with your skill and knowledge alone, than with any weapon. Follow me."

Only when she reached the main archives did she turn to see that she had been followed. "Do you know where magic comes from?"

Reluctantly, Loki shook his head.

She gestured toward the image of Yggdrasil that rose from the middle of the floor, "It comes from the World Tree, Loki. The reason it is so much stronger when your emotions are strong is because they both come from your spirit – the part of you that is most especially _you_, the part that will last forever. So magic is not something you _do_, Loki, its part of what you _are_."

He was looking at her, eyes glowing in growing wonder and excitement, even as he breathed, "So they couldn't have taken it out of me even if I _did_ find them, could they?"

She shook her head, "No. The king in your story must have had a different kind of magic, the kind that is found or forced."

"Forced?"

"Magical ability can be learned through much study or by charms. It can also come upon one through a curse. Yours is like mine. It is part of what makes you _you_. If they had tried to take it away," she tipped his chin toward her, "they may have killed you."

"Oh,"

Frigga laid a hand on his shoulder, gesturing again toward the glowing tree, "Before you were born, the idea of you was put into the head of the Norns. It was they who fashioned your spirit, giving you your special gifts. They're too big for you now, but you'll grow into them."

"When?"

She laughed, running her fingers through his dark hair, "In time, my patient one. The feelings of your heart and your magic are like two threads. Just now, they're too long and they get tangled. You must learn to untangle them."

He nodded, still watching the tree.

Frigga took his chin and turned his to face her, "And you must never run away from me again. Do you understand?" his gaze faltered but she held him still, "You frightened me, Loki. I didn't know what could have become of you. You must never do so again."

"Yes Mother,"

His voice wavered and she pulled him to her, "Oh Loki, never forget what a gift you have."

He pushed away, "But what if I never learn to control it?"

"You will,"

"How do you know?"  
"Because I will teach you," brushing his hair back, she kissed his forehead, "And I have never once yet set out and failed."

~.~

"_He will only disappoint you."_

_Frigga turned away from the fire. So focused had she been that the approach of her elder son had startled her. She would much rather he had not caught her just then, but there was no helping it now._

"_Why indulge him?" Thor continued, "the gifts? The visits?"_

_Gathering up the folds of her garments, Frigga came around the fire and took his arm, leading him away, "I think if you consult his guards they will tell you I was never there."_

"_Do you ever regret sharing your magic with him?"_

_It was neither that simple, nor worth arguing, "No. You and your father cast long shadows. I had hoped that by sharing my gifts with him he might find some sun for himself."_

"_You still see good in him."_

"_I see glimmers of light that I had thought long extinguished," she smiled slyly in Thor's direction, "and I never gave up on my sons," she said quietly, "even when one of them was banished."_

_He stiffened, "That was different."_

"_Not so different."_

_Thor was stubborn, and he would not be persuaded by words alone. But Frigga knew that – even for all his harsh words to her – her younger son was not lost to her. Not yet. _

_And she had never once yet set out and failed._


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, before you read this, allow me an explanation. **

**A friend of mine read the previous chapter. She said she liked it, but would have liked it better if Loki had been older. **

**This got me thinking.**

**And as all of you who know me are aware, that is never a good sign.**

**Anyways, let me know which version _you _like better, and - if you could - why.**

**Thanks a bunch**

**~.~**

Loki was sitting in his room, sullen and silent. It was no more than Frigga had expected.

The boy had been missing for the better part of three days. He was a wanderer and explorer by nature, but never had he been gone that long, and never without some warning.

She was unhappy with him, but more than that, she was confused.

He didn't look at her, but stared from his place at his desk toward the far wall of the room like he meant to drill holes into it with his eyes.

It was no more than she had expected, but much less than what she had hoped for.

Swallowing a sigh, she closed the door and went around the desk where he was forced to see her. He didn't say anything. And he didn't look at her.

"Loki,"

He didn't move.

"What happened?"

It was like her voice had snapped the spell and he had woken. He sat up and turned, eyes glittering poison-green, mouth quirked into a sharp grin. "Didn't Father tell you?" he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, "I ran away."

"Don't be impudent with me. I would have you tell me why."

His eyes skated away, "Does there have to be a reason?"

Frigga watched him. Watched how the act he held up trembled as he fought it into place. Watched him sprawl in his seat, looking everywhere but at her eyes as he tried to convince her how little he cared. Watched how it suddenly ran strained and taut.

Finally, she said evenly, "I know my son. I know that there is ever a reason behind his actions. And I would have him tell me what it was."

Green fire snapped as he eyed her levelly, pretense gone. "I went after the skalds," his words were every bit as low and dangerous as hers had been, "And before you ask me why, it was for one purpose, and one purpose alone. I went to offer them whatever they would ask in price for my magic."

"Loki! It could have killed you!"

He shot up, nearly tumbling the chair behind him, "And maybe we would all have been the better for it!"

The movement was instant and reflexive, and she hardly knew she took it until she felt the impact across her hand and saw him fall backward again into his seat. Too furious for words, Frigga strode from the room, letting the door fall loudly shut behind her and did not stop until she came to the garden. She inhaled the sweet smells of the welcoming flowers, allowing the sound of the fountain to drown out the cacophony of her mind.

What struck her first was her own remorse. She should not have struck him. But what he had said had alarmed her. Thinking on it now, she saw that it was a foolish thing, spoken in anger, as so many of Loki's words were. But he _did _have to learn to control his tongue. She had acted quickly, but not unjustly.

She wondered what was happening in her boy's mind, that he had said such a thing to her. He was one to speak rashly – cruelly even – in anger, but usually the hurt was directed at his attacker.

She would go to him, but not for a while. This time, she would wait until she was sure she could handle him.

~.~

It was the better part of an hour later that Frigga was standing again before the door to her errant son's room. Raising her hand, she tapped it. She didn't bother to wait for a response. He would be expecting her.

She found him exactly where she had left him, sitting in the chair before his desk. But the proud anger from before was gone. He sat hunched forward and didn't move until she came around in front of him. Then he sat up, folded his hands on the desktop, "Mother,"

She raised one hand, "Let me speak. I am sorry, Loki. You frightened me when you left. I didn't know what could have become of you. I lost my temper, but even so, I should not have struck you, and for that I apologize."

Loki nodded, face turned away.

"Let me see it,"

He closed his eyes, clearly unwilling, but put up no fight as she slipped two fingers under his jaw and turned him toward her. There was an angry red mark down his cheek in the place where her hand had first made contact. She swallowed the sound that nearly escaped her throat, knowing that it would not be appreciated just now.

His eyes opened and met hers as she released him. He sighed, shifted, "And I should not have spoken as I did," he said, dull and quiet, "I sought to provoke you, and it was wrong of me."

"But did you really do as you said?" she asked him, "Did you know the danger?"

"Yes," his voice was strained, and it was several minutes before he spoke again. "I knew. I just –" he fidgeted nervously, gaze fixed on his folded hands, "I didn't care. I'm so…" he trailed off, searching for words, then shook his head, "I don't want to do magic anymore, but I can't stop," his words were picking up speed and she moved to still him, but he ignored her, "If I stop, everything gets worse. But magic is _useless_, I'm the only one who can do it, and it's not something –" he came to a shuddering halt, paused, looked up at her, "Do you think Father hates me?"

"No! Loki, no!"

It seemed that voicing his doubt had taken more out of him than he'd expected because his mouth wavered and he turned sharply away.

Her chest felt cold. She didn't know if he believed her. "Oh, Loki," she came around the desk and gathered him to her. Odin often disciplined his sons, but she'd never thought… "I want you to speak to him," she decided, "I want you to tell your father just what you told me."

He pulled away, "No. Mother, I can't, I –" he shook his head with finality, "I can't." He smeared a hand across his eyes and looked away again, toward the far wall.

"Why not?"

He gave her a reproachful look, so like the ones he's given her as a mite that she almost laughed.

"He and I are not so different, Loki," he looked like he wanted to say something sarcastic, but made no move to do it. "He loves you just as I do," Loki turned away. "And besides," Frigga straightened, stepping back, "If you do not tell him, then I will."

Loki jerked as though stung and looked at her. His surprise melted, "Please," he asked – more calmly than she'd given him credit for, "please don't."

"Then you'll have to tell him yourself."

He glowered at the desk. But Frigga said nothing more, and, finally, he conceded.

Smiling, Frigga brushed the hair back from his forehead and kissed him.

Coming to the door she turned, "And Loki," he looked up at her, "I expect you to tell him the truth."

He scowled, then sighed and put a hand to his chest in a mock salute, "You have my word, my Queen," though he seemed powerfully unhappy about giving it.

Laughing fondly, she closed the door behind her.

~.~

The door shut behind her and Loki slumped forward. He kneaded the heels of his palms into his eyes. He didn't want to admit to the cold knot in his chest, but it made him feel sick and giddy. It was hard enough to talk to his mother. Thinking about the upcoming conversation wasn't helping anything, but there was precious little else for him to do until his summons came. He wondered vaguely what Thor would do.

That was easy. Thor would shout at their father and get in worse trouble. Wasn't that why he had been sent away?

The story spread, was that he had been sent to live for some time with the Thunderers to better learn to control his gifts. But Loki knew better, and so did much of the court. Mother had been terribly angry about it, but as far as Loki could tell, Thor had only been excited.

Things got very dull now, what with Thor not there to crash around and tug him away from his studies and throw them both into trouble. He wondered what Thor would have said if he knew what Loki had done. He probably would have been horrified, just like Mother.

But what would Father say?

~.~

"I want you to speak to him."

Wearily Odin closed his eye. Of course she had gone to coddle the boy in some fool way, "Have I not spoken to him enough for one day? He is a proud and obstinate boy and he refuses correction."

Frigga gave him a dry and pointed look, then placidly smoothed her skirts, "He might be more receptive if you would listen to him."

"He is my son and I would have obedience from him. Whether he would or no."

"He is your son," she countered. Her grey eyes flashed, "and would have some sign of your love. Or did you forget that on the day you brought him to me?"

"Frigga,"

She gave him no chance to finish, "I know that you are troubled, what with Thor gone and the uprisings on the border, but could you please speak to him? He needs you to be his father as well as his king."

Odin sighed, knowing there was no way to win this particular battle. "I will. What may I expect him to say?"

She smiled, "That is for him to tell. I gave my word that I would not." She seemed to find the look he gave her highly amusing, "Would you have an oath-breaker for wife and queen?"

"I would not have my wife and queen take such oaths."

"It is not your choice," she kissed him, "I will send for him."

~.~

A hard knock rattled the door and Loki jumped, shamefully startled, "Your father wishes your presence, Prince."

"I'll be right there," his heart lurched unevenly. He waited to hear the feet move away, then rose and went to the door, steadying himself as best he could. The door was opened – somehow – and he was walking down the hall. He was going quickly, walking at his normal pace so that nobody would see how very badly he wanted to go anywhere else.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but, finally – and altogether too fast – he came to the door of the study and someone – the hand that had done it looked remarkably like it belonged to him, but he couldn't recall bidding it to do any such thing – knocked.

"Come in."

He couldn't very well do anything else, so he did.

Father stood, tall and stern, looking out of the great window over the city. He glanced over, "Ah, Loki," pleasant enough, though no less frightening, "Your mother informs me that you wish to speak with me. Which, for myself, I take to be her way of saying that _she _wishes us to speak. Am I correct?"

Loki swallowed thickly and nodded. He tried to summon a smile, Father seemed to expect it, but he felt dizzy and the look felt wrong on his face so he dropped it.

"Come, sit."

"I'd rather not – I-if that's alright. Sir."

Father raised a brow, but did not seem offended, in fact, he didn't seem anything at all, which – far from being comforting – only made Loki more wretchedly anxious, "Well, don't stand in the doorway," Father turned once more to the window, "It is a beautiful view, with the sun at this angle, is it not?"

"Yes." Loki found himself near his father, eyes trained on some shining thing outside the window, far on the ground below.

"As is that," Father eyed the mark on his face. He tipped Loki's chin up to see it better, "Your mother?" Loki gave a jerk of an affirmative and Father nodded appreciatively, "What was it that she wished you to say to me?"

"She wanted me to tell you why I ran away," he rasped. His hands were shaking. He clasped them tightly behind him, praying to the Norns that Father hadn't noticed.

"Well?"

His mouth was dry, "I went after the skalds."

"Why?"

The one-word questions weren't helping. A semi-hysterical part of Loki wanted very badly to laugh, "I–" he'd considered lying – specifically on this point – even before he had told his mother. He was seriously regretting his decision not to. He knew he could break his word, even convince his father – But Mother trusted him to keep it.

In the end, that was what made the decision. He didn't want to lie to her. He forced the words through before he could take them back, "I wanted them to take my magic."

They were out, and they hung on the air and taunted him for what felt like centuries as his father _didn't react_. Loki wanted to hit him or shout or _something_ to make him wake _up_ and _move_, but he twisted his hands together and finally, _finally_, Father said,

"Why?"

This time, Loki did laugh, before he could help himself. The question just seemed so small, next to the enormity of the admission.

Father looked at him, "Is something funny?"

"No," Loki gulped.

Father turned back to the window, "Why did you want them to take from you your birthright?"

Loki felt wretched and small, "I don't know," when he worded it like that, it did seem rather absurd, but Father had continued,

"Magic such as yours is given by the Norns, and they do nothing without cause, as I expect you know. I would like to know why you thought to try and remove it."

"I don't know, I –" he was fishing in his mind, searching for something that he could _say_, something that would be _safe_ – "I don't _know_."

Father was looking straight at him. "I do not accept that as an answer."

"I don't want to do it anymore –"

"It is not something you choose"

"Wouldn't you rather I didn't?" The words were out before he knew they were coming and he was looking at his father, sick and hovering above the fall of a cliff.

"Loki,"

But he'd fallen and the words were coming too fast now, bubbling up from the sick, tight place inside him, forcing their way to the air, "You hate it. You didn't want a son proficient in magic, you want me to be a warrior, and I can't do it. Not when I have to study as much as I do, and if I don't I can't control it –"

"Loki," Father had raised his hand, but Loki didn't quite know how to stop, "You hate my tricks and my magic. I don't want to study it anymore. I don't know how to make you not hate me –" He heard the words and they strangled in his throat. He hadn't wanted to say any of it, but that last was the worst. The desperation went out of him all in an instant, leaving him trembling and afraid in its wake, naked in the light of all he'd told, "I just… I don't understand," every word was like a knife he'd handed to an enemy.

Loki expected, at the very least, to be slapped. And not as gently as his mother had.

What he did _not _expect, was his father's hands turning him. Or his strong arms coming around behind, tight enough to hear his own bones creak. Father's voice rumbled from his chest, "You have made incredible strides in your studies. You have accomplished things unthought-of for one of your years," he pushed Loki back, driving the words home with his gaze, "I couldn't be more proud."

They hit like a blow and Loki wavered, but he couldn't run, held by pride as much as anything else. The visible eye, blue as Thor's, softened – just barely – as a rough thumb swiped at his skin, smearing wetness across his cheekbone, "Do you understand now?"

Loki jerked a nod – not at all sure he did, but knowing quite well that he couldn't really say anything else. Everything was coming back up at him all at once and he wanted very badly to take himself somewhere else, _anywhere_ else, but Father had taken hold of him again and Loki's traitorous body had given up its last defenses and wept.

"Never have I hated you, Loki. Often I am displeased with you or your fool actions, but never have I hated you."

He couldn't answer, but for the first time in a long while, Loki allowed himself to begin to believe that it might be true.

~.~

Odin smiled.

~.~

**I was seriously tempted to put that scene from the opening of 'The Dark World' here, where Odin tells Loki that his birth-right was to die and that Frigga was the only reason he was alive, but I thought that might discolor the whole thing.**

**And while you're reviewing, let me know what you thought of that smile. Is Odin truely convinced that he has reached his foster-son? Or did Loki just get played?**

**Let me know what you think.**


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